 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes |  |
[IV. Let me not feel thy pitying fingers' grasp]
Let me not feel thy pitying fingers' grasp,Though dewy cool their pressure still may be,
Since they have learned to thrill within the clasp
Of passionate love that trembled once for me!
Sweep back the beautiful tresses from thy brow,
Nor let them, falling o'er me, blend with mine:
Dark as the glorious midnight in their flow,—
My locks are paler in their fall than thine!
In thy deep eyes are lit the fires divine,
That made the heart its early love forget;
So much they mock the softer light of mine
I cannot calmly meet their glances yet;
Therefore, until this bitterness shall cease,
Leave me, that I may win my heart to peace!
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes | |